


Sam Wilson Cordially Invites You to Drinks and Dancing

by dottieapple



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Asgardian Liquor (Marvel), Dancing, Drunk Bucky Barnes, Drunk Steve Rogers, M/M, Nick Fury is a Cat Daddy, Not Canon Compliant, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-World War II Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Shy Steve Rogers, Slow Dancing, Thor Loves Party Snacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-08 20:04:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20841236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dottieapple/pseuds/dottieapple
Summary: Bucky loves dancing with a crowd. Steve never has. Bucky also loves Steve when he's drunk. Steve is...actually drunk.





	Sam Wilson Cordially Invites You to Drinks and Dancing

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something cute and fun for the Captain America Softender challenge, and here I am, clocking in like five minutes too late, but who in the SteveBucky fandom doesn't love something sweet and silly at any time of the year? 
> 
> Sam invites Steve and Bucky to his birthday celebration. Softness, Drunk Steve, and dancing ensue. Also be on the lookout for sweet flashbacks and Thor, god of tiny party snacks.
> 
> Thanks to babydollbucky for the quick beta, and thanks to my fandom tweeps (twitter peeps) for their cheerleading on snippets I shared. Ideally I'd have posted this by Sam's actual birthday, but hey, it's done and it's here!

**A prologue, of sorts.** __   
  


_ To the right, to the right, to the right, to the right, _

_ To the left, to the left, to the left, to the left,  _

_ Now kick, now kick, now kick, now kick,  _

_ Now walk it by yourself… _

Bucky unfurls his hair, twists it back up, and re-secures it with a bright blue hair tie. He clicks  _ pause _ on the YouTube video, smiling faintly. This one seems easy enough, but he’s got to put on his slick dress shoes if he wants to get really good at this. He wanders to the bedroom, where Steve is toweling off his hair.    
  
“Oh, didn’t even know you’d been in the shower,” Bucky says, reaching into the bottom of the closet for his dress shoes. He sits on the edge of the bed, sliding them on over his tube socks, and lacing them loosely. 

Steve stoops down to give Bucky a peck on the cheek, then tilts his head to the side like a confused puppy. He acknowledges Bucky’s change of footwear. “Formal day at the gym, Buck?”

Bucky snorts and shakes his head. “Practicing my moves in the living room,” he grins and performs an illustrative shoulder shimmy. He sighs gently, enjoying the view of Steve’s naked butt as Steve tosses his towel into the hamper and bends down to dig through a basket of clean clothes. 

“You already know how to dance,” Steve points out, “in all kinds of shoes.” 

“Look, Stevie, here’s the thing,” Bucky explains, “Sam asked if I know anything about line dancing, because according to him, there’s going to be plenty of it at his party this weekend. He said all his aunties and cousins will be on the floor doing the Cupid Shuffle and the Cha-Cha Slide, and I  _ will _ get dragged into it whether I like it or not.” 

Steve steps into his boxer briefs. “As if you weren’t going to get up and dance. It’s Sam’s birthday, for Chrissakes.” 

Bucky adjusts his loose bun and smoothes the wrinkles in his gym shorts. “You don’t get it, do you?”   
  
“Guess not, Buck. Sam usually tells me to stay as far away from the dancefloor as possible.” Steve throws up his arms and attempts an impression of his friend. “ _ Your lack of rhythm is throwing everybody else off, Rogers _ . That’s what he said on New Year’s Eve, the little shit.” 

“Listen, Steve” Bucky hops up from the mattress and tests the slickness of the soles of his shoes by shuffling on the area rug. “Sam tells everybody about how my fancypants arm somehow makes me the best dancer in the tri-state area. He saw me Lindy Hop with Natasha one time, and I threw her up in the air and caught her one-handed, so now the entire Wilson family is gonna expect me to be Fred Astaire.”

Steve, much to Bucky’s dismay, is now fully dressed. “You’re overthinking this, honey.” 

“You’re  _ underthinking _ it,” Bucky says over his shoulder, meandering back to the living room. “Did you know Sam’s Aunt Trudy tagged me personally in the Facebook invitation? Wilson has them putting me on the spot!” Bucky leans over the laptop and queues the video to the beginning again. The Cupid Shuffle starts up, and Bucky begins dancing along. He hopes he’s doing something cool with his arms, that they’re not just hanging there. 

Before Bucky’s even aware of it, Steve is watching from the kitchen, coffee mug in hand. “Lookin’ good, twinkletoes.” 

Bucky startles but resumes his footwork. He pointedly doesn’t respond to Steve. A little crease forms between his eyebrows as he concentrates. 

_ Now kick, now kick, now kick, now kick… _

  
  


*****

**September 23rd, Sam Wilson's Birthday Party.**

Steve knocks back a stiff cocktail spiked with some Asgardian spirit Thor brought to share. The liquor is clear, but magically tastes like whatever you’d like it to be when you order. Steve smiles, easy and content, because a glass containing what  _ looks like _ sour mix on the rocks, with a cherry, that tastes  _ exactly _ like a whiskey sour is still not the weirdest thing he’s witnessed in the 21st century.

Bucky is dazzling on the dance floor, as he’d been determined to do all week, but it’s not just his moves. Steve feels his face warm as he watches, and his stomach fills with butterflies. 

Sam slides up next to Steve at the bar. “I see what you’re drinking, Steve. Trying to work up the courage to get out there and cut a rug?”   
  
Steve laughs. “I see what  _ you’re _ doing, trying to charm me with some old-timey slang.” His shoulders slump. It’s a subtle gesture.

Of course, this doesn’t go unnoticed by Samuel Falcon-Captain America-Wilson. “You alright? You look--” Sam flashes a knowing little smile. “Did you ever go to prom? Did high schools have prom in 1930s Brooklyn?”

Steve squints at Sam, but does not say  _ what the fuck, Falcon? _ because there are children and little old ladies present.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Sam continues. “You look lovesick. Like you can’t ask the prettiest girl in the room to dance because you’re not popular.” 

Steve takes Sam’s scrutiny as an opportunity to order another whiskey sour. He heaves a deep sigh and lowers his voice so only Sam can hear. “This is deja vu from the thirties, that’s for sure. You see him?” He nods in Bucky’s direction, and as they both look, Bucky sees them looking, gives a gorgeous smile, and waves. Then Bucky spins off as Natasha grabs him by the vibranium hand. “They don’t make dance halls like they used to, Sam, but this is easily every other night of my past life.” 

Sam’s expression is soft and fond as he elbows Steve in the side. “You’re practically married. It’s not like you can’t go out there and dance with him. Anybody who judges you gets thrown out of my party because it’s MY birthday.” He looks quickly back and forth to judge the distance between himself and the nearest kid. “ _ Assholes _ are not welcome here. Except for Clint.” 

Steve cracks a genuine smile, shaking his head. “You should’ve seen him back then. Most handsome fella in every room. He was all I wanted, and I had to hide it. Also, I couldn’t dance to save my life.” He tips the cool glass against his lips, watching Bucky work his hips as he and Nat  _ boogie-oogie-oogie  _ along to the song. Steve’s shoulders straighten, but he shoves his hands into his pockets after he abandons his now-empty drink. “Sam, I feel like I’m 5-foot-4 and all bones again.” 

Sam claps Steve on the back. “Captain’s orders: have a good time, Steve. Relax. The third-prettiest guy in the room only has eyes for you.”

“Third?”   
  
Sam demonstrates each number in order on his fingers. “Me. Thor. Barnes.” 

Steve chuckles, loudly this time, feeling his muscles finally loosening from the booze. He looks around, and the room is alive with happy people--Sam’s family, blood or otherwise. Bucky and Natasha are grinding on either side of Clint, who looks half-mortified to be in the center of a former-foreign-operative sandwich. At a corner table, holding a plate piled high with pigs-in-a-blanket, Thor is gleefully cheering on the Marias (Hill and Rambeau) and Carol in a game of flip-cup. 

“Okay, I gotta get back out there,” Sam grins, showing off his dimples and the gap in his front teeth. “Looks like Fury is trying to flirt with my mom, and I am  _ not  _ sure how to feel about that. I’m serious, man. When’s the last time you really cut loose? Nobody’s gonna judge you. Maybe have another drink?”

Steve chuckles gently, unsure of how long it’s been since he’s been drunk. He’s feeling warm now, tapping his toe arhythmically to the beat of the disco tune blaring over the dance floor. Sam’s nieces are in frilly, sparkly party dresses, twirling their skirts, their sweet carefree moves charming Steve. The bartender taps him on the shoulder. “From the dark-haired gentleman over there,” he hands Steve a highball glass with clear, sparkling liquid and a lime. Steve sniffs: gin & tonic. He looks down the line of the bar where the bartender had been pointing. 

Bucky flashes a grin that could charm the pants off anyone, but he’s only focusing on Steve. He gives a playful little salute, and Steve can feel himself blushing like a schoolboy. Steve raises his drink where Bucky can see, taking a meaningfully long pull from the citrusy cocktail. It’s strong, strong as Asgardian magic. 

Bucky looks like magic from here. His skin is glowing with sweat from dancing. Little tendrils of chestnut hair curl next to his brow, fallen loose from the neat half-bun he’d styled to go with his outfit. His burgundy jacket is tailored perfectly to show off his shoulders and his slim waist. His flesh-and-blood hand wraps elegantly around a shot glass. Steve can’t stop staring at Bucky’s throat and adam’s apple as he swallows down his shot.  _ So pretty _ , thinks Steve.  _ So, so very pretty. _   
  
  


Bucky sidles down the length of the bar, perching on a bar stool next to Steve. He gently squeezes Steve’s forearm with his vibranium hand. “Hey there, soldier,” he purrs, enjoying the pink that colors Steve’s freckled cheeks. “You looked awful lonely over here. How’s that drink treating you?” 

Steve seems almost nervous to look at Bucky’s face. “Oh, that was from you?” Steve feigns surprise, poorly as usual. 

“You see any other tall, blonde Commanders in here?” Bucky smirks. Steve grins, a lopsided thing, and points to the corner where Thor and Carol are arm-wrestling while the Marias clink their respective beer bottles together. Bucky snorts. “They don’t really count. I’ve had my eye on an Army man.” Steve blushes deep crimson as Bucky thumbs at the lapel of Steve’s jacket. “Been looking after him for a long time. D’ya think he’s sweet on me?”

Steve giggles. It’s not his usual dry laugh; it’s an out-and-out schoolgirl kind of noise, pitched high and sweet. Steve’s eyelashes have always been long, fanning out against his cheeks when his eyes close. It’s one of Bucky’s favorite things to see. “Buuuck,” Steve drawls. 

It clicks in Bucky’s mind, finally. He gasps melodramatically. “Stevie, are you drunk?”

“No,” says Steve, smiling and drawing the ‘O’ out for far longer than necessary. “Just having a good time. Maybe a little,” and Steve holds his thumb and index finger less than an inch apart, “Little bit tipsy ‘s all.” 

Bucky’s heart sings because Steve is looking at him with big doe eyes in front of everyone. He can’t think of a time the big blonde has ever done this. 

  
_ There’s a shadow of a memory from long ago, a much tinier Steve, eyes like pretty blue saucers, looking up at Bucky reverently in their musty shoebox of an apartment. Their secondhand radio crackles with soft music, and Bucky slips his hand into the honeyed silk of Steve’s hair, petting down his thin neck. _

_ “You’re drunk, Stevie.”  _

_ “Yyyup, and I waited up for ya. Ya big galoot. Pretty boy. C’mere.” Steve, awkwardly straining onto his tippy-toes, tries to kiss him. _

_ “Dance with me first.” _

_ “Mmmkay.” Steve never agrees to this without being a little tipsy. His willowy arms go around Bucky’s neck, and he meets Bucky’s gaze with a smile.“You were holdin’ out, Barnes, that rot-gut you bought ain’t half bad. I’m almost warm as you now. Feels nice.”  _

_ Steve mushes his face against Bucky’s chest, giggling. Bucky sways Steve to the big band sounds coming out of their tin can of a radio set. _

Bucky presses a quick, gentle kiss to Steve’s cheek. “You gonna come dance with us, pretty boy? Or do you need some more liquid courage?”

“Dunno,” Steve replies. “Sam told me to relax. I’m tryin’ to do that.” 

Bucky shakes his head. “Does he know Steve Rogers at all?”

“I listen to Sam’s advice,” Steve insists, not sounding nearly as offended as his scrunched up face would have Bucky believe. Steve gets the giggles again. “I listen when I think it’s relevant.” 

“ _ There  _ he is,” Bucky observes playfully. “Little punk.” He boops Steve on the nose, which makes Steve cross his eyes. “I’ll have you dancing soon enough.” Bucky snaps his fingers toward the bartender. “My good man, please get Commander Rogers here the Asgardian double G&T, extra lime.”

“Bucky, that’s  _ your _ drink,” Steve almost whines. 

Bucky raises his eyebrows then whispers into Steve’s ear, “Maybe I wanna taste it on you when you kiss me.”

Steve’s bashful giggle rings out again. “Buuuck,” he waves one big hand through the air, as if he can fan away the cute shyness that gathers around him when he’s been drinking.

Sam’s hired DJ announces that everybody who wants to do the Cupid Shuffle should get ready. Bucky watches the beeline of partygoers heading to the floor, including the birthday boy himself. Bucky’s no stranger to the buzz in his veins when he’s been drinking and dancing. He hustles away from Steve, calling over his shoulder, “I practiced for this! Gotta go!”   
  


Steve can feel it--energy. The whole room has gone electric as they crowd onto the dance floor. Even the Marias have left their corner post, each of them holding one of Thor’s massive hands, goading him to dance between them.

Sam’s relatives seem to instinctively know the steps. Even the little nieces are giving it a try. Bucky, Nat, and Clint are in a clean line, smiling. Clint attempts to snap along to the beat while moving. Natasha’s movements are precise and graceful. Bucky--well, Bucky is preening for the crowd. It’s always been Bucky’s M.O., impressing the neighborhood with his moves. Steve knows that Bucky was working hard to make sure he looked perfect. 

And  _ God _ , does he ever. Steve’s never understood how Bucky manages to wiggle his ass so enticingly while doing dances that don’t even require such a movement. 

“Steve,” greets the cool-headed voice of Carol, appearing at his side. “You’re staring.” 

Steve can’t bring himself to try and hide it. “Can you blame me?”

She smirks knowingly. “Then why aren’t you out there?”

“Why aren’t  _ you _ ?” Steve pokes her in the shoulder.

“Group dances aren’t really my thing. I’m much better at karaoke as far as party activities go.” Her eyes are fixed on Maria Rambeau, until they dart to Maria Hill. Then her eyes go wide, and she laughs. “Are you seeing this? I’ve never seen this before. Should we take a picture?” Carol points to where Nick Fury is rivalling Bucky and Sam for slickest moves on the floor. He does a spin with a flourish, and Sam yells something in his direction. Fury wiggles his eyebrows, then turns and winks at Sam’s mother. 

“You wanna drink?” Steve asks her. “Thor brought the strong stuff.”

Carol cocks her head at Steve, sniffing. “Captain America, are you drunk?”

“Captain America’s over there,” he points at Sam. “And a little bit,” he snickers. “It’s Bucky’s fault.” 

“You’re a terrible liar,” Carol fires back, but studies Steve’s face and concludes, “but maybe your husband  _ is _ partially to blame. I’ve never seen your cheeks so red.”

Steve’s face burns. “He’s not my--we aren’t--I mean, we love each other but we haven’t--”

Carol cackles and pats Steve’s cheek a little too hard. “Oh, sweetie. I’m just having fun. And I’ve never seen you  _ gaping _ at him like this. I’ve got a wife. And a crush. And I promised them both a dance when this whole...line thing is done.” 

Steve nods and looks to the floor just in time to see Bucky making eyes in his direction. Bucky extends his shiny arm in a come-hither gesture. Steve shakes his head vehemently; Bucky shrugs, going back to  _ walk it by yourself, now walk it by yourself. _

  
  


Bucky is so pleased with himself. He knows he’s beaming over it, and he doesn’t care. The Asgardian liquor has warmed his insides and liquified his joints, just like the best dance hall bourbon in 1940. Steve, as always, is being Steve. Dancing is dumb; group dancing is even dumber. 

_ “I’m no good at it, Buck. Girls don’t wanna dance with a fella they could break in half, especially one who tramples their toes and their best shoes. I’ll just watch. These drinks are good, at least. Maybe some gal will get tired and come talk to me. I’m an excellent conservation-  _

_ convershaysh- _

_ conversationalist.” Stevie hiccups, smacking Bucky on the arm to thank him for the beer. “Get back out there, pal.”  _

Bucky makes a point to stick his tongue out at Steve as he sidesteps past with the rest of the dancing crowd. The Cupid Shuffle was the easy dance to learn. It was entirely repetitive. Now the DJ has moved on to playing the Cha-Cha Slide, which requires a bit more listening to the instructions in the song. Bucky shifts his focus from being showy to practicing precision. 

Sam’s auntie does an extra hip-shake, bumping into Bucky’s side. She giggles like a schoolgirl, and Bucky decides to flash her a wink. She titters as she dances away to whisper to some other relative. 

_ Two hops this time!  _ Bucky hops and takes a deep breath. His super stamina can apparently only take so much before he wants another drink. He’s determined to finish out this dance first. His gaze automatically tracks to Steve, who is actually looking like he’s enjoying himself. Steve looks incredible tonight, the perfect mix of elegant and casual in deep blue trousers that show off the curve of his ass perfectly, a fitted button-down, and a soft cardigan that complements the color of his eyes. At Bucky’s behest, he’d chosen a pair of designer loafers in a crisp brown leather. 

Steve’s laughing, bent over; Carol must have said something hilarious. She’s looking like a dream herself in a dark purple tuxedo jacket with matching pants and a white shirt. Her short hair is somewhat slicked back, the way Bucky and Steve’s lesbian friends at certain bars favored in the late 1930s. 

Bucky collides with a big body. “Friend James!” Thor declares. Everything is a declaration with him, and it’s worse when he’s drinking. “I greatly enjoy these Midgardian dance rituals! They even provide instructions. On Asgard, if you don’t learn the steps from your mother, you will look like a fool at the ball.” 

“Sometimes it’s the same here on Earth,” replies Bucky, unsure of what else to say. He seems to be one of the sweetest Avengers, but Thor is still intimidating based on height and tone of voice alone. Bucky has never been able to stop thinking of him as a mythical figure instead of a living, breathing person, which is why it’s hilarious when Thor pulls two cheese cubes from his jacket pocket and pops them into his mouth as he dances. 

Bucky must be gawking, because Thor speaks up again. “Have Midgardians always enjoyed such tiny morsels of food at their celebrations? They’re so charming! And portable!” He produces a single strawberry from his other pocket and proffers it to Bucky, who shakes his head politely.

Bucky fumbles his way through some new line dances, but he’s still smiling. Sam dances beside him for a short time before being pulled away to say good-night to his little nieces. Natasha, having taken off her stilettos, sips a martini and watches from a table where Clint is working on another cup of coffee. The dance floor clears as the partygoers visit the desserts table and the bar, and the music mellows.

Bucky looks around the room and sees his mission, shifting his weight unstably from foot to foot as Nick Fury clinks a beer bottle to his glass of whiskey. Bucky moves in.

Steve’s stomach feels unsettled as he notices Bucky stalking him from across the room. His heart flutters in a way he swears he hasn’t felt since the early 1940s. He’s approaching slowly, like he would have then, when girls looked at Bucky like his swagger was a casual cool; Steve always knew that walk, charged in Steve’s direction, meant a question was on its way. An ask for something a little scandalous. 

_ “I need some fresh air, Stevie. Come out back with me?” _

_ “Let me buy you one more drink, punk. I have some extra change.” _

_ “I think I’m ready to head home, Stevie. I’m mighty tired.”  _

Fury is busy recalling his first week with Goose. Apparently, a buzzed Nick Fury loses all inhibition when discussing his love of cats. He and Carol were cooing over photos until Carol wandered off to her lady-friends. Steve feels bad that he suddenly can’t pay attention to the end of Fury’s tale, but Bucky looks...well, he looks like Steve’s hottest dreams. Steve is having trouble standing still. 

“And that’s when I had to commission Stark to build a litter box!” Fury guffaws. 

“That’s...great,” Steve answers, letting the last of what he swears is his last drink slide warm down his throat. When he opens his eyes after tilting his head back, Bucky is standing in front of him.

Bucky tugs at Steve’s wrist. “Steve.” Bucky’s smile is pure sunshine, his eyebrows raised as though asking a question. 

“Heya, handsome,” Steve whispers, desperately pleading with himself to not look too giddy. He bites the inside of his lower lip and averts his eyes. 

Bucky steps in closer, nearly pressing his chest up against Steve’s. “Dance with me?” Bucky’s hand, unrelenting but gentle with its vibranium grip, slips down into Steve’s hand. He laces their fingers together. “Please?”

Steve’s chest rises and falls rapidly with his breath and heartbeat. “Bucky, you know I’m just gonna mess you up. Gonna look like an idiot out there.” Bucky cocks his head, scrunching up half his face in confusion. This makes Steve giggle. “Buuuuck.” 

“Stevie, you’re drunk.” Bucky’s tone is fond and amused. He raises his right hand to touch Steve’s face. “I haven’t seen you like this in--”

“80 years?”

“Something like that. Since when have you been able to do math drunk?” 

“Serum,” grins Steve, bending his free arm to make a muscle. 

“Well do you know if it made you a better dancer?” Bucky bites his lip in that way Steve can’t stand. Steve wants to sink his teeth into his best guy. He feels dazed until he realizes Bucky is doing this on purpose, and now he is backing Steve slowly onto the dance floor.

“Buck, c’mon,” Steve feels himself blushing. Mortified. He can’t believe that the most handsome guy in the room, in  _ any _ room, still wants to dance with him.    
  
Bucky stops. Purses his lips. Takes Steve by the shoulders as if to shake him. “Sweetheart, please. Please dance with me. Don’t make me beg, honey. You’re so cute with your cheeks all pink. Always were. And this feels like the old dance hall.” 

“Everybody is staring at us,” Steve whines.

Bucky wraps Steve in a soft embrace and speaks softly in his ear. “They’re staring because they want to look. You know times are different now. I’ve had my eye on you all night, and this is all I wanted. You’re being all sweet and shy, and I never got to dance with you back then. Not in front of the world the way I wanted to.” 

  
“Baby,” Steve whispers, feeling his eyes welling up.  _ No. _ He’s no maudlin drunk. He’s not about to cry here in front of Sam and Thor and everybody. 

Before he can say anything else, a strong, broad hand is resting at the small of his back. Steve realizes he’s been swaying back and forth, mirrored ball lights circling around the room. He circles Bucky’s waist with his own arm, their hands both entangled, resting against Bucky’s sure, solid shoulder. 

“Ow,” says Bucky quietly as Steve tromps on his toe. 

“We don’t have to--” Steve freezes. 

“Nope,” Bucky interrupts. “Shhh. Just go with me, doll. You’re doing great.”

Steve all but preens. In all 100-some years of his life, it’s only ever been Bucky who makes him feel like this. He lets it seep into his very core--this lightness, this buzzing joy. He tucks himself up against Bucky. He’s got an inch or two on his best guy these days, but Steve breathes and lets himself feel it--in this moment, he’s somehow small, safe, exactly where he was meant to be.

But the Asgardian alcohol thundering through his veins still turns him silly.    
  
  


Bucky’s insides are warm and sweet, like a fresh pie. He chuckles to himself, a little bit proud of his accomplishment as Steve’s nose is buried against the side of his neck. In the fuzziest parts at the back of his mind, Bucky can still conjure the feeling of a small, bony frame pushed up against him, smelling of cheap booze. The feeling of silky, golden hair tickling his chin and jaw as he rested his head atop Steve’s, the tinny radio singing in the corner of the kitchen. 

He can still feel the knot in his stomach from looking across a bustling dance hall filled with the best looking folks in Brooklyn, wanting nothing more than to scoop up the little blond with the sour expression and a bump in the middle of his nose, twirl him around like in the pictures, and kiss him stupid in front of all of Red Hook. 

Steve never would have gone for that. But here he is, pressed hot against Bucky, giggly and sweet from drinking in a way he rarely gets to do.

Steve begins to laugh in earnest. It’s adorable, but a bit puzzling. Bucky cracks a smile. “What’s the matter with you, silly boy?”

Steve laughs some more. “Did you know Sam thinks you’re the third prettiest guy at the party?” His big shoulders shake. He can’t hold it in. 

“Third?” Bucky blinks, incredulous. “Well  _ you’re _ the first, so does that make Sam number two?” 

He watches Steve freeze and turn crimson up to the tips of his ears. He blinks owlishly at Bucky. Bucky refuses to miss a perfect opportunity, so he reels Steve in and kisses him, in front of Sam and God and everyone. 

“Woooooo!” Clint calls out, obviously snapping a pic with his phone. 

Natasha, who is dancing with Sam, stealthily gives Bucky a thumbs-up. Sam is trying to get Natasha to spin them around so he can see what Clint is yelling about.

When their lips part, Steve smiles at Bucky, looking up through his long eyelashes. “You’re biased. You’ve always thought I was prettiest in every room.” 

“So maybe I am,” Bucky smirks, tugging Steve closer again to sway to the music, this time pushing his hips forward a little. “Can you blame me?” 

“Seems unfair to Sam,” Steve deadpans. “It’s  _ his _ birthday. He’s in a tux and everything.” The corner of his mouth plays upward, though, and he playfully grabs a handful of Bucky’s ass.

“Stevie!” Bucky giggles. 

“Hey! Soldiers of Love!” Sam yells in their direction. “Stop stealing the show! This is  _ my  _ birthday. You got a room upstairs, y’know.” 

Steve gasps melodramatically. “Buck! I think he’s jealous. We shouldn’t have left him out.” 

Bucky lets go of Steve and sweeps across the floor. “May I cut in?” he asks Natasha, who is smiling with her eyes. She nods curtly, and he sweeps Sam into a dip. 

Sam squeals in a most un-masculine fashion. 

“Let’s hear it for Captain America!” Bucky declares, and the entire room laughs and cheers. He pulls Sam back to his feet and gives him a hearty hug. “Happy birthday, pal. Now, who wants to dance with the most handsome man in the room?” Bucky gestures to present Sam to the crowd. Sam’s mother hurries to be first in line. 

Bucky finds Steve at the bar again. Steve lights up when he looks at him. 

“What’ll it be, Sarge?” Steve asks with a wink. “Lemme buy a hard workin’ fella a drink.” 

He puts his hand on Steve’s thigh. “I guess one more for the road won’t hurt. I’m feeling mighty tired, Stevie. Think we should go home.”

Steve hums, pushing up into the touch. “Yeah, I think it’d be good to get to bed soon. But I have to dance with the prettiest guy in the room one more time. I don’t get a lot of chances like this.” 

Bucky kisses him on the cheek, egging him on knowingly. “I’m sure everyone would get a great kick out of it if you dance with Sam.” 

“You know what I meant, Buck.” Steve’s nose crinkles and that precious little line between his eyebrows becomes visible. 

“There’s my Stevie.” Bucky kisses the furrows in Steve’s face, and they soften immediately. 

Steve hands Bucky an Asgardian double gin and tonic, extra lime. He clinks his identical glass to Bucky’s. “To us. Don’t tell Sam.” 

Bucky shakes his head. “To us. And to Sam, just a little. It’s his birthday.” They both drink a little too quickly and smile dopily at each other.

Steve is giggling again. Bucky’s heart can barely take it. This time, Steve grabs Bucky firmly by the hand and tugs him out onto the dance floor, pulling him close. He presses his mouth up against Bucky’s ear. “I love you, James Buchanan Barnes.” 

“I love you too, you little punk,” Bucky breathes out. He knows Steve can hear it.

Steve grins and actually raises his arm to let Bucky do a spin. He hardly ever looks this joyous. When he reels Bucky back in, he presses firmly against him. “Thanks for making me get out here.” 

“Thanks to Thor for giving you some liquid courage. And thanks for actually leaving your comfort zone. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Bucky tilts his head.

Steve undoes his top button and laughs out a low, secret sound. “No, Buck. No it wasn’t. But when we get upstairs I’ll show you something that’s really hard.”    
  
Bucky smacks a noisy kiss to Steve’s jawline. “You’re the worst when you’re drunk, Rogers. But I’m very interested in this...something.”

Steve starts to whisper, a little too loudly, “The  _ something _ is--”

Bucky interrupts, “Don’t spoil my surprise, punk. Huh. Your whole face is red again.” 

“Must be the drinks,” Steve slurs, showing all of his teeth when he smiles. 

Bucky and Steve sway to the beat. When the song ends, they give Sam hugs, say their other goodbyes, and, slinging their arms around each others’ shoulders, walk on wobbly legs to the hotel elevators.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are my bread and butter (and also I'm an only child so yes, I enjoy seeing your approval). I hope you had fun and got some nice feelings from this. :)
> 
> Want to see snippets and yell about fandom with me? Go to Twitter and follow @dottieapplesez !
> 
> See you next time, fic fans.
> 
> xoxo,  
Dottie


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